Late into the night, as his thoughts drifted and his body rested, Lu Fan felt a subtle shift inside him.
A shadow detached itself—not a figure, but a skill, a faint echo in his mind.
He saw it like a dark thread weaving through his veins—an ancient technique locked inside the pendant, perhaps.
With no master to teach him, Lu Fan knew he had to listen to this shadow skill, learn from it, adapt it.
He reached out with his mind, drawing the faint energy toward his core, feeling it grow, flicker, and respond.
It was unstable, wild—but it was his.
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Lu Fan's journey was only beginning, and every step would be his own.